


Threads

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: Mc76 [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Promises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-23 07:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16154735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: Some threads were easy to pick up, for McCree and 76 their relationship, changed as it was by years apart was one of them. Whilst other, more intimate threads were not so easy to repair.





	Threads

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Hanji and this thread on Twitter: https://twitter.com/jockstrap76/status/870049888821805057

    McCree could feel eyes on him and leaning back in his chair he lifted his head just enough to glance across the room, sharing a brief eyeroll with Lena who looked equally bored with the drawn-out briefing before letting his gaze move on. It was the man next to her that drew his attention, lips quirking into a smile as he caught the brief tensing of muscles that told him his attention had been noted. The mask that Jack seemed reluctant to abandon even now his identity was known to everyone in the Recall, meant that he had little to go on, but that tension was enough. Jack was watching.

   That wasn’t anything new. When they had first learnt who Soldier 76 was he had been overjoyed, a weight that he had refused to acknowledge lifting from his shoulders. Jack was alive. McCree had spent long years mourning the other man, believing him lost in Zurich, to have him back was more than he could ever have hoped for. However, it hadn’t taken long for the relief to give way to a complicated mixture of anger and hope. Anger that Jack had let him believe that he was dead for all this time, that he hadn’t reached out even when they had encountered each other months before Jack had finally reached out to the new Overwatch. Anger that he hadn’t been trusted, because he wasn’t blind, and it was clear that Ana and Angela at least had been aware that there was a chance he had survived, if not outright knowing that he was alive. Blackwatch had taught him to watch people, and he could see it in the way they interacted, asking Jack about things they shouldn’t know. But the anger, as deep as it had burned had paled in comparison to the surging hope.

   He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been hoping for. As much as he might wish that they could just go back to how things had been, he wasn’t naïve enough to believe that was possible. Too much had happened, too much had been lost, too much had changed. He wasn’t the same man who had fled when the burden of Blackwatch and public opinion had become too much, and Jack…

   He let his gaze trail across the other man, cursing the mask obstructing his view of Jack’s face. Still there were plenty of changes that he could see despite the mask. The silver that had overtaken the soft gold of Jack’s hair, the scarring that he could see peeping out the top of the mask, evidence of what he had survived, and he knew that beneath the mask and body armour lay even more damage. More scars, lines left by age and grief. Whilst the brilliant blue of his eyes that had once reminded McCree of the open skies above Route 66 were now faded, not quiet empty, but bordering on it. But the biggest change was in his posture. Back during the height of Overwatch, he had always stood tall, shoulders strong, head up no matter how bad things were. He had been a pillar, a beacon even when the public and the media were raging against him, and McCree knew that he wasn’t the only one who had stayed longer than intended because of him, clinging to the image he presented. Now, even though he was sat at the table at them, easily speaking up when the moment called for it, he was ghost-like. A sounding board lurking in the shadows, waiting to help but hiding from the merest hint of leadership. He was diminished, a pillar worn down by the waves of public opinion and crisis after crisis.

He was still Jack though.

   There were moments when he would say something, hoarse voice non-withstanding and it would seem to McCree that the years had melted away and he was a young, headstrong agent who knew what or rather who he wanted and Jack… Jack was the unprecedented man who had actually allowed his approaches, not just tolerating them, but welcoming them, needing them. That much hadn’t changed, he still wanted something from the older man.  However, beneath the hope, he had feared that Jack would push him away or at least keep a safe distance between them or that Jack had forgotten what lay between them, abandoning it to the same ashes that had taken Zurich from them and for the first few weeks it had seemed as though Jack intended to do just that.

   Then he had realised that wherever he went he was being watched. At first, he had thought that it was his imagination, because whenever he would look around it would seem as though there was no one there and whenever he encountered Jack in the corridors or in the common areas, the older man would retreat, acting almost like they were strangers. It had hurt, and he blamed that hurt for the fact that it had taken him so long to realise that Jack was always there, always watching, hands constantly clenching and unclenching at his sides as though he was fighting the urge to reach out. It was another change, because in the past despite the fact they had done everything to keep their relationship under wraps, Jack had never been shy about demanding what he wanted, and yet now whenever it seemed as though he was close to breaking point he would flee.

   In the end, it had been McCree who broke first. He had never been one for waiting around and it hurt too much to have Jack alive and close enough to touch, and to not be allowed to touch and so he had waited and watched in turn. Catching the sideways glances, the tension and shivering breaths if he ever got too close and then he had pounced.

_“Tell me you don’t want this,” he had ordered, pushing Jack back against the wall and holding him in place, not fooled for a moment with the ease that he had managed the task. Jack was older and worn down by old injuries and age, but he had seen the man fight and knew that whatever had been done to him in SEP was still going strong. He had Jack pinned, because Jack was allowing it, and if that thought didn’t send a pleasant tingle skittering across his skin…_

_It had always been the same, the power he had between them was because Jack allowed him to have it, and he had been forced to suck in a breath to try and calm himself as he felt Jack trembling in his grip. The blasted mask was obscuring his view, but he could easily imagine the wide eyes and the way that Jack was probably nibbling his bottom lip, and it was harder than he had ever thought possible to step backwards. Wanting, needing a proper answer to his question. “Jack. Tell me that you don’t want this, that you don’t want me.” Please don’t tell me_ …

_“I can’t.” It was the closest to an admission that he was going to get, and he felt something easing in his chest as he caught the longing in the whispered words. He wasn’t sure who had moved first, their fingers colliding as he moved to remove the mask and Jack froze, going completely still, barely even breathing as McCree faltered and waited for permission. It came in the form of a tiny, breathless nod and then he was fumbling with the catches, letting the mask fall away with a clatter that earned him a growl from Jack, a growl that was promptly devoured as McCree kissed him. It was clumsy and messy, and everything that he had remembered over the last few years, Jack hesitating for a moment before responding, burying his fingers in McCree’s serape._

   That had been nearly three weeks ago, the heated kiss ending with whispered promises that things were going to be okay, that they could start over. That they could regain what they’d once had. It hadn’t been that easy of course, both still dancing awkwardly around the other, but the distance had been closing steadily since then. Late at night they would talk, driven from sleep by nightmares and memories that would take a long time to recede, both seeing sanctuary out on the communication tower with the stars stretching out above them. It was here they slowly began to trawl through everything that had happened, both before Zurich and after…Jack apologising brokenly for not telling McCree he was alive, voice shaking as he spoke of lonely nights in places that even rats wouldn’t inhabit, of long hours spent wishing for the other’s company. McCree telling him about the bounties and the hunters that followed them, of wild train rides and lonely nights spent drinking himself into a stupor when the grief had become too much.

   Between the words had come frantic, heated kisses in secluded corners. Never planned, never expected it felt as though everything would rise and sweep them away into a tempest that could only be stopped by the other’s touch. Gentle touches, fingers tracing new scars and finding old ones. Reassurances that they were both there, that they could wait, that they had time to make a future. More heated touches, hands slipping beneath clothes, seeking out familiar sensitive spots and mapping new ones, yanking each other closer with each meeting.

   That was as far as they had gone so far, the ease they had built up in the past all but gone and whilst McCree knew what he wanted, he wasn’t sure that Jack was on the same page yet and so he had resigned himself to waiting. And yet… he didn’t realise that his gaze had wandered until he found himself refocusing on Jack, taking in the tenser than usual posture and the way Jack’s head was tilted ever so slightly, telling him that the older man was still watching him. There was something about the intensity of the hidden gaze that had him squirming, the briefing and the mission to come all but banished from his mind as he studied Jack, noting the way he was nervously tapping the chair arm with interest. In the past it had been their signal, Jack had always fidgeted during meetings, the pressure getting to him and so no one had looked for something more in the way he would tap his fingers against his chair on days when he had been particularly focused on McCree’s presence.

   Hope rose but still he watched, scarcely daring to believe and this time the tapping of Jack’s fingers was accompanied by the tiniest of nods and McCree sucked in a breath. There was no way to misinterpret that, not with Jack now directly staring at him and he let a small grin creep across his lips, slowly reaching up to tug at the edge of his hat in reply.

   After that it was impossible for him to drag his attention back to the briefing, too caught up in thoughts about what Jack wanted and why now and he was caught by surprise when there was a sudden rustling of papers, people sitting up and more worryingly Winston addressing him directly.

“Huh?” He knew that he had just confirmed that he wasn’t listening, and he couldn’t help but squirm under the stern gaze that greeted him when he focused on Winston. “Sorry…” The apology didn’t sound convincing even in his own ears and he waited to be called on it, struggling to keep his gaze away from Jack and blinking when Winston just sighed and shook his head, the disapproval stinging but better than what he had been expecting.

“Make sure you get all the details from someone before tomorrow morning…”

“Understood,” McCree muttered, shooting a panicked look at Lena who sighed before nodding to indicate she would message him the information he had missed, and he gave her a weak grin, gaze already shifting back to Jack who had made no effort to move from his chair even as the others rose to leave. McCree could see a couple of them hesitating, glancing between them, but then Angela was there with a slightly exasperated expression as she herded them out of the room. Shooting a glance at him that McCree couldn’t decipher before she was gone as well, the door closing quietly behind her and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts enough to focus on his companion. “Jack?”

   There was no response and he hesitated for a moment before slowly rising from his chair and moving round to Jack, keeping his moves slow and deliberate, giving the other man a chance to escape reaching out, aware that there were cameras in here and that Athena at least would be watching but unable to bring himself to care. There was no one to hide from anymore. No one would worry about who was with Jack if they ever caught them, and so with trembling fingers he reached for the claps on the mask, working them open with little difficulty before halting, letting Jack take the next step. For a minute, he thought that they had reached a sticking point because Jack was perfectly still, but then slowly he uncurled, hands trembling worse than McCree’s as he reached up and removed the mask, letting it fall into his lap.

“Are you sure about this?” He could see the hesitation in Jack’s face, the way the faded eyes skittered towards him and then away again, a movement that he knew had nothing to do with his failing eyesight and he crouched so that he could gently grasp Jack’s chin. “Jack? You can say no, I’ll wait.” He had always intended to wait, even when there had been no sign that Jack wanted anything more and the last few weeks had eased that doubt, so even though he wanted nothing more to take this step he would wait.

“I…” Jack paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips and McCree couldn’t help but follow the gesture, leaning in slightly and a small smile tugged at Jack’s lips, even though the hesitation lingered. “I’m sure,” it was barely a whisper of sound, but there was a resolve beneath it that McCree recognised, and he had to lean in and kiss Jack. Thanking him for this chance and encouraging him all at once, savouring the kiss which grew deeper as Jack leant in to him. It was nothing like the frantic kisses stolen over the past few weeks and that more than anything convinced him that this was what Jack wanted, and he was smiling when he pulled away.

“My room,” he murmured, and he knew that he had said the right thing when Jack swallowed thickly, a blush already dusting his cheeks as he nodded, finally meeting his gaze and McCree kissed him again, not daring to linger for too long otherwise the cameras would see far more. Jack didn’t make it easy for him to pull away, whining in protest at the loss of contact as McCree pulled back and rose to his feet, letting go of Jack’s chin and the noise had him biting his lip. “My room.” It was more of an order this time and he barely waited for the nod before he slipped from the room before he could give into temptation, hearing a chair clattering to the floor behind him and he had a feeling that Jack wasn’t going to waste any time in getting out of there either.

****

    McCree grumbled under his breath as he rushed along the corridor to his room. His plans to be the first one there had been scuppered by Lena grabbing him to hand over the mission details he had missed, and to tease him, because apparently, he had been staring at Jack like a ‘lovesick fool’. He’d been flustered to realise that she knew about them, even if she didn’t know the full extent of their past relationship, but it had warmed him when she had finally chased him off with a smile and a wink, wishing him good luck. And despite being later than intended and worried about how Jack might react to their discovery, he couldn’t keep a grin off his lips at the thought that they might not need to hide anymore.

   In his eagerness, he messed up the code to his room, starting over with a curse only to be caught by surprise when the door in front of him was yanked open. He had a brief impression of blue eyes and scarred lips pulled back in snarl, and then he was being pulled inside, the door slamming shut behind him and if McCree had thought that Jack’s previous hesitation was going to spill over into the bedroom he was soon proven wrong. Strong hands gripped his shoulder, pushing him back against the wall and holding him in place with what would have been frightening ease, if it hadn’t been coupled with warm lips against his.

“Someone’s impatient,” he teased when they broke apart, reaching up to run fingers through the silver hair, tugging gently to bring Jack back in for another kiss, this one longer and more sensual. He let Jack lead, willingly letting him, because this Jack had always hesitated, always held back, but right now it felt for a moment that he was holding the reckless man he had fallen in love with. “Jack…” Suddenly overcome he pulled back, ignoring Jack’s protest and drawing him into a tight hug, burying his nose against Jack’s neck and drinking in the familiar scent of lingering pulse emissions, the musky aftershave and Jack. “Jack…”

“Someone’s emotional,” Jack tried to tease, his wavering voice betraying him and there was a moment of silence before they both laughed, any potential awkwardness fading away as they pulled back and studied one another. “Jesse…” Jack was the first to move, closing the distance once more, eyes narrowed in concentration as he reached for McCree’s top, faltering on the top button when he realised that McCree hadn’t reacted, and he was about to pull back, unsure once more when warm fingers came to rest on top of his.

“Sweetheart…” It was permission and longing all wrapped up in one word and Jack nodded, ducking his head to kiss the fingers resting on top of his before shaking them off. He wanted to do this. Hell, he had been wanting to do this ever since McCree had forced him to admit to himself at least that he wanted this. That he wanted McCree.

   He was deliberately slow as he unbuttoned McCree’s shirt, the tiny buttons a nightmare for his failing eyesight, but that wasn’t the only one reason for going slow. The other was the faint tremors that would wrack McCree as more and more of his skin was exposed, Jack feeling a pang as he spied blurry lines that he knew were scars, fresh marks that he didn’t know, and he faltered at the sight. So much had changed, was it too much? Warm hands on his shoulders jolted him back to the present, and he blinked as he felt McCree tugging lightly as his shirt and caught by surprise he let McCree take over, leaning in when fingers brushed against his chest, tracing the path of one of the many scars he had received in Zurich and he jolted when McCree leant down and pressed a kiss to the mark. “I feel the same,” he whispered, warm breath tickling his skin and Jack sighed, leaning into him, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Has too much changed?”

“No…” McCree cut him off, a note of desperation in his voice. “Do you really believe that?”

   Jack was quiet for a moment before he shook his head, not quite convinced but there was a hopefulness to his expression that had McCree pulling him closer. “Good, because I don’t either.” _I won’t,_ he added fiercely as he pulled Jack as close as possible, pressing kisses across his face, lavishing attention on the worst of the scars. Jack keened slightly at the attention, nuzzling against McCree’s shoulder and remembering his previous response, nipping lightly at his skin before finally finding his voice again.

“I think you just want to get me out of my pants.”

“Maybe,” McCree admitted easily, pulling back enough to be able to pull Jack’s shirt off, dropping it to the ground before pausing to study him, splaying his fingers against Jack’s abdomen even as he admired the sight his partner made. There were scars, too many to count and he hated the thought that Jack had been forced to deal with those wounds alone. The burly strength had given way to lean muscle, too lean, and he frowned for a moment as he curled his fingers against Jack’s stomach, lips quirking when he brushed a ticklish spot and drew a chuckle from Jack. “You need to eat more…”

“You need to eat less,” Jack retorted, fingers brushing McCree’s abdomen in return before he moved closer, pressing kisses along McCree’s chest before dipping down the middle, pausing to swipe his tongue across a dusky nipple before pulling back and scowling at him. “Strip.” It was Jack’s Strike-Commander voice, a tone that McCree hadn’t heard in years and his knees trembled. It was a voice that he had never been able to resist, not that he had ever wanted to and with a grin he pulled back, throwing a cheeky salute as he obediently reached down and began to shimmy out of his boots and chaps.

   When he was done he nudged them to the side, before lifting his head and growling when he found that Jack had used his distraction to do the same. As much as he appreciated the view, he had been looking forward to undressing Jack himself, the last few weeks of straying hands having built to this moment, but he couldn’t sulk, not when Jack was already flushed and peering at him with half-lidded eyes. Expression softening, he closed the distance between them once more, pulling Jack flush against him, letting his hands roam lower and lower. He could feel more scars, raised ridges and shiny burn scars and he mapped them out as he let his hands fall to Jack’s ass, caught by surprise when Jack jolted and shook his head. “Not yet.”

“But…” McCree stifled the protest before it was fully formed, catching Jack’s flinch and moving his hands higher and feeling Jack relaxing, gently stroking scarred skin as he nuzzled into the side of Jack’s neck, nipping lightly. “Do what you want to do.”

    He wondered if he was going to end up regretting that decision when a mischievous expression crossed Jack’s face, but any worries he had disappeared a moment later when Jack kissed him firmly on the lips, nipping lightly before murmuring quietly against his lips. “Thank you.” McCree opened his mouth intending to reply, but the words vanished as Jack moved on, pulling free of his grip to begin working his way down McCree’s chest. Jack was in no hurry, exploring every inch of skin, using his fingers and lips to mark out the path of new marks and to remind himself of old scars and sensitive spots, and McCree found himself biting down on his hand to stifle a pitiful whimper as Jack teased him.

   As Jack moved lower, he found himself lowering his hand and tangling his fingers in Jack’s hair, not putting any pressure on him but gently guiding him lower, breath catching as Jack nipped hard than necessary, causing him to yank on Jack’s hair drawing a hiss out of the other man.

“Jack…” He went to apologise, but Jack shook his head, nipping him again before moving down and this time McCree couldn’t supress a groan when Jack lathed the spot he had just bitten, and he closed his eyes, missing the way blue eyes struggled to focus on his face, Jack’s expression darkening for a moment.

   It was a thought that he had tried to keep at bay over the past few weeks, but now as he stared at McCree, studying through blurry vision the body he had once known off by heart he couldn’t help but wonder if there had been others. The last few years had been hard on both, they had both been alone for the most part and Jack knew all too well how crushing that loneliness could be, although he had never been able to bring himself to do anything. Had McCree given into the temptation? That thought hurt far more than he’d thought it could.

   What made it worse was that it was a foolish thought, after all he couldn’t have expected McCree to wait for a dead man. Yet the thought of someone else in his place, someone else touching the broad chest in front of him, someone else hearing the shuddery breaths that greeted each gentle kiss and nip had him scowling and this time when his lips met warm skin he couldn’t help but bite down. Hard. He heard the sharp intake of breath and he waited, half expecting to be pushed away after all what right did he have to claim McCree after everything that had happened? Especially when he had been the one to keep the distance between them, even though he had known that McCree was waiting? He was about to pull away, when there were fingers in his hair again, tugging him closer and he obediently followed, risking a glance up and stunned to see McCree was flushed and trembling, tawny eyes heated as their gazes met.

“Keep going.”

    It took a moment for the plea to register, relief and pleasure blossoming as he realised that his possessiveness hadn’t ruined anything, in fact from the way he was being pulled in again by the hand on his head he was being encouraged. He nuzzled into the hand for a moment, just savouring the sensation of being touched after so long, smiling against McCree’s skin before continuing to work his way down, increasingly aware of the erection pressing against his front. Swiping his tongue along a narrow scar he let his hand drift lower, trembling as he felt McCree’s cock, breathing speeding up as he moved down and slowly wrapping his fingers around it.

Gods, he had forgotten how big McCree was.

   He could feel his blush deepening, not helped by the low groan that seemed to vibrate through them both as he slid his fingers along the length of it, glancing up to meet McCree’s gaze before trailing kisses along the side of his erection. It was a taste he had half-forgotten, and he hummed softly, delighting in it and the memories that came with it and savouring McCree’s ragged breathing as he moved to the tip, the fingers back in his hair, the touch bordering on painful as he traced his tongue around the head, lapping across the slit.

“J-Jack.” Jack savoured the fact that he was affecting McCree like this, nipping and licking at sensitive nerves before giving a flat-tongued lick right up the length, meeting McCree’s gaze once more before trying to dive down.

It was too much.

   He had known as much, could remember how long he had spent before he was able to take it without faltering and that had been a long time ago. He had been younger. His jaw more flexible before numerous fights and Zurich had left him stiff, with old age creeping in and there was a stinging in his eyes as defeat crashed down on him. Gasping and choking he had to retreat, barely aware of McCree’s hand shifting from his head to his shoulder, supporting him and drawing soothing circles against his shoulder.

“Hey now…” McCree half-scolded, half-soothed, reaching out with a concerned frown as Jack continued to cough for a moment longer, pre-cum and drool running down his chin as he gasped for air. “Take your time, sugar.” There had been other nicknames once, ones that called to mind warm laughter and sunshine, words that held no meaning to the two men now and yet he could feel the shiver that greeted the nickname and he smiled, gently toying with his hair. “It’s been a while for you and me.” _It’s been too long…_

   Jack closed his eyes, pulling back and sucking in desperate breathes but he didn’t let go, fearing that if he did then it would be admitting defeat, and this would be over. Something of what he was thinking must’ve shown in his expression, because McCree was smiling, smoothing down his hair, his voice soft and soothing despite the fact he was clearly fighting the urge to thrust into Jack’s loose grip. “Go slow, Jack,” he cautioned, his hand moving down to stroke fingers across a flushed cheek. “If you can’t handle it…” He trailed off when Jack turned back to face him, fighting back the urge to laugh at the pout on Jack’s face as he eyed up his cock, refusing to back down from the challenge in front of him, and for a moment McCree was facing the young, cocksure Jack again. The one who had no idea about limits, or rather didn’t care about them.

“That’s it…” McCree crooned, biting back a groan as Jack’s fingers tightened before stroking him firmly and he closed his eyes. Which was why he was caught by surprise, letting out a startled shout when suddenly he found himself engulfed in the warmth of Jack’s mouth. “Shit, Jack!” Opening his eyes, he found his breath catching as he reached down to tangle in his fingers in Jack’s hair once more, unable to tear his eyes away from the focused expression on Jack’s face and the bulge in his throat. “Jack…”

   He didn’t have chance to savour the sight, or the sensation because Jack was pulling back, and McCree had to fight the urge to hold him in place as he took in the blush that had turned into something more, letting the silver strands slip through his fingers as Jack fell back coughing and choking again. It was worse this time, violent coughs that wracked his entire frame and McCree growled as he saw the tears swimming in blue eyes, the desolate expression that was replacing the previous pout. It was too much, and he was already moving when the idiot tried to reach for him again, stubborn determination written across his face even though he was still struggling to catch his breath.

“No,” McCree murmured, dropping to his knees in front of Jack, grimacing in discomfort before pushing it away, reaching for Jack’s shoulders and holding him in place, stopping him from getting closer. “That’s enough, Jack…that’s enough.” He could feel Jack shaking and shuddering under his hands, and it took a couple of minutes for his words to penetrate and then Jack was blinking heavily at him, still breathing heavily even as he shook his head, and still stubbornly trying to reach for him.

“But…”

“There will be plenty of other times,” McCree murmured softly, cautiously removing a hand so that he could brush a thumb against a flushed cheek before leaning in to kiss Jack on the forehead, before resting their heads together, trying to calm his own breathing even as he listened to Jack’s slowly settling into a more normal pattern. “I promised you I would wait, didn’t I?” Of course, it had seemed like an easier prospect in the safety of the briefing room, when he didn’t have Jack staring at him with a pleading expression and when he wasn’t desperate to feel Jack’s fingers on him again, but he knew that one of them had to be responsible here and it was clear that Jack was too stubborn to think rationally at the moment. Pulling back, he kissed him softly, before letting a hint of steel enter his voice. “So, let’s wait, okay?” Jack was scowling and trying to avoid his gaze, and he sighed wondering how he had managed to fall for the one person on base who was more stubborn than he was. “Jack?”

“’Kay…” Jack was sullen, bowing his head in defeat and McCree sighed, wishing that he had the words to fix this. Wishing that he could make Jack see that this wasn’t the end of the world, that just being here together like this was already a large step forward, his hands hovering uselessly over Jack’s shoulders. _Jack…_

   They remained like that for a few minutes, McCree’s arousal disappearing as he knelt in front of Jack who was carefully avoiding looking at him, and McCree started when the other man slowly began to push himself to his feet, reaching for his clothes with his gaze still fixed on anything but McCree.

“Where are you going?”

“I…” Jack looked surprised by the question and McCree sighed, realising that the idiot really expected to be kicked out because of this. Muttering under his breath about stubborn old men he reached out and nudged Jack’s clothes out of the way, before rising and latching onto Jack’s hand, tugging lightly until Jack reluctantly turned to look at him.

“I don’t want you to leave,” McCree said firmly, aching at the sheer surprise that greeted his words and hesitating for a moment before taking Jack’s hand between both of his, pressing a kiss to the back of it and feeling Jack shiver. “Sweetheart, please stay.” It came out more desperately than he intended, but he had a feeling that if he let Jack leave tonight that would be it. They were already on shaky ground as it was, and he could see that Jack was shaken by how things had ended. “We can nap or talk, whatever you want to do… just please stay.” Jack hesitated for a moment, glancing between the hand that McCree was cradling and the door before his shoulders slumped in defeat and he nodded, not resisting as McCree tugged him into a loose embrace, kissing his temple. “Thank you.”


End file.
